Canary's Call
by Reese S. Quill
Summary: "Funny thing about canaries. They survived the Capitol-but not through defiance and hate. Because of their beauty and song...and the way they can warn people about danger coming even before it happens." "Canaries die." "I didn't." One small change results in big differences. One warning twists the lives of the Everdeens and Panem forever. AU.
1. Part 1: The Warning

**Summary: **One small change results in big differences. One warning twists the lives of the Everdeens and Panem forever. AU.

**A/N: **Before I begin, let me just say that I really shouldn't be writing this. I have a lot of assignments for myself and for school (including a school newspaper) I need to write for, as well as two ongoing fics. But you know when an idea refuses to leave you? This is one of those times for me. I got a case of the plot bunnies, I suppose. Besides that, I'm experimenting with a really different mode of writing, so I'm considering this as an experiment on how well it works. If it does work, then hopefully I'll be able to write more.

Just wondering – because I'm debating with myself on if I should do this – but who would be willing to beta-read this story?

* * *

**Canary's Call**

* * *

**Part 1: The Warning**

* * *

**1**

_Thump._

A canary trills a note. In the mines, here usually he only noises were the cracking of stone, the beat of the pickaxes, and the groans of men, the sound should have been alien. But it was practically a daily occurrence in this particular one. After all, Ronan Everdeen, the charmer of town girls and birds, is there.

_Thump. _

"Hey, Everdeen, have you swallowed enough worms for your birdie yet?" Someone asks. They laugh.

Ronan pays no attention. "Very funny," he says, as if they hadn't told the same joke for around twelve years, ever since he had married Laurelei. With her, she brought a number of items she had owned in the town. Including, at the last minute, a canary she claimed she couldn't bear to part with. At first he accepted the bird simply because he couldn't turn his wife down – he felt guilty, and still did at times, that she had to give up her family and prestige just to marry him – but soon he had come to like it for its own company, and it reciprocated his affection.

That was made clear the day he accidentally left the cage door open and it followed him right to the mines. It always would, from then on, and that trait would be passed on to its offspring. Katniss and Prim had even taken to opening the cage door when their mother forgot.

_Thump._

He smiles. Thinking of his little girls always makes him smile. They would be in school right around this time—Katniss is sixth grade, Prim in first. Though he doubted if the former would really be paying to what the teacher said. His smile widens to a grin. And Lorelei….

_Thump. _

Lorelei would be giving help to those who needed it. Her healing hands and her cheap prices made her rather famous in the Seam, despite the icy reception she was first greeted with when she came as his bride. He was so proud of her when he found out that they had finally accepted her as one of their own, all because of her talent and hard work. He loves her. He could never say that often enough.

_Thump. _

He frowns. Something's wrong.

_Thump._

He can't place his finger on it, but he has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The others, however, just keep working steadily, not the least perturbed.

_Thump. _

Silence.

_Thump. _

That's it. That's the problem.

It's too quiet.

_Thump. _

The canary is gone. For a moment Ronan stops to look for it, but somebody yells at him to get back to work. He does so, reluctantly.

_Thump. _

He hopes it hasn't gone far, so he can find it before he gets home.

_Thump. _

He glances downwards.

_Thump. _

There it is, on the floor. He almost breathes with relief before he realizes something.

He drops his pickaxe, his instincts screaming at him to run.

The canary is dead.

* * *

The moment the sirens begins wailing, Katniss knows what she's supposed to do.

Her father had drilled it in to her often enough. The mines were a very dangerous place;an accident or worse could happen at any time. If that time came, he wanted her to be ready. The first thing she has to do is to make sure Prim and her mother were okay. That's the most important thing. Then she had to check the hunting supplies and the snares he already put up, which would hopefully set them up with enough food until her mother could start working again. Whether she signed up for tesserae or not was her decision, he said one day in a pained voice, but he rather she avoid it unless the situation was desperate….

Yes. Her father had prepared her for almost everything.

Everything except, of course, the terror and heartache that's threatening to consume her.

* * *

Haymitch opens his eyes blearily as he hears the sirens ring. As always, he's in the improvised pub Ripper runs, slumping over a table with a mug in his hand. Great. Yet _another _mine explosion. He wonders why they even bother with all the warnings and signals. Everyone knows they don't work. Not until it's too late. He's about to go back to his drunken stupor again, when he hears someone say exactly which mine had exploded to bits.

Mine 24.

He used to work there, didn't he?

He sits up wearily and remembers. Yes, yes he did; before he went on those damned Games that ruined his life. Why was he thinking about this again? Hadn't he come here to forget, just as he always did? Oh, yeah. The mine exploded. And with it, presumably all the miners inside. Some, he probably even knew. Like…

Everdeen.

The name pops up in his murky mind with more clarity than he could have expected after so long. Quickly, he drowns it out with another gulp of liquor. A part of him knows that he should care, but he stopped listening to that part years ago.

Caring hurt too much.

And frankly, after his Games, he hasn't had much practice.

* * *

Lorelei Everdeen hangs at the edge of the makeshift barrier the Peacekeepers have constructed. Her eyes are large with fear, even more so than the other wives that desperately wants to know news of their husbands. Everything she holds dear in life is at stake. Her daughters soon join her. For a moment, she feels a pang of guilt for not collecting them herself. But that feeling is fighting with too many others to win out. Her dread, in particular, is heightened when a Peacekeeper walks towards her. It is not unjustified.

Because of the explosion, the mine has collapsed directly at the part where the people had been working. The Peacekeepers would be unable to recover their bodies.

As far as they can tell, there are no survivors.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the side of the mine connected to the forest, a man drags himself out of the debris.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **The Hunger Games and all its characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**2**

Run.

That's the one thought that fills his head, and he sees it as an order to keep going, even though he doesn't necessarily know where he's going _to. _He tries to assemble what happened. Everything keeps flitting away. The canary's dead. No one's listening. Go back to work. No. Mine's going to explode. Has to get out. Another exit. Behind the mine, away from the other workers. Another exit.

Run.

Peacekeepers are chasing him.

Survive.

How can I survive when everything is trying to kill me?

An exit.

Clawing through the soil. Breaking his pickaxe. Free.

Then the world turns over.

An explosion. Pain.

He's confused. Disoriented. What's happening?

Peacekeepers are chasing him.

He runs.

He falls. Pain on his right leg.

A trap. He's caught on a trap. He laughs hysterically, hardly able to believe it.

Katniss. Prim. Lorelei. The canary….

He blanks out.

* * *

It would be a lie for Katniss to say that her mother and Prim are okay.

The last time she saw them, they were huddled on her parents' bed, clutching each other in grief. Prim was crying bitterly, large rivers of tears streaming down her face, her throat making a sound like a wounded animal. Katniss feared that she would make herself sick if she carried on like that. But it's her mother that really worries her. Her mother, with the dry eyes and the unnervingly blank expression on her face.

Maybe she's trying to be strong, holding it in for us, Katniss thinks. But she can't be sure. She just hopes that her mother will be back on her feet soon; the alternative, that her mother would be too wallowed up in despair that she couldn't take care of her own daughters simply couldn't be a possibility. No. Her mother would pull herself together eventually, she was sure of it. But right now, she needed to mourn.

As for the time _she _needed…

Well, Katniss always knew that she was made of stronger stuff than her mother, at least in things like these. And her father had given her a job to do.

She approaches the fence with caution. Although she always felt at ease in the woods with her father, it's an entirely different thing to go alone—something that she never had to do before. But Prim and her mother needed to eat. They're depending on her. Squaring her shoulders, she walks into the dark forest, where one false move can mean her death. She never shows she's scared.

Once in, she goes through the route that her father and her always went on when they're collecting their traps' catching. Sometimes they come home with a haul big enough that could last them days. But today's haul is bad. Of the ten or so traps Katniss has scoured, she could only boast a squirrel—and the snare has torn through most of its body anyway. She almost throws it away in disgust, but then she remembers meat might be scarce from now on and puts it in her bag.

She hesitates. Most of the other traps her father had set up were too far away to reach within the hour, and she didn't want to leave her mother and Prim alone for too long in their states. But there is one more snare that isn't too far away, and it usually catches a lot of big game. The only problem is that it's far too close to the mine in which her father had worked.

She tells herself it doesn't matter. That if her father were here, he would not thank her for keeping their family starving because she was too scared to check a snare. This doesn't stop her form trembling as she walks toward it, though. Callher irrational, but she's scared that she might find…bits of the miners. A severed hand. A blown-off eyeball. She shivers, and she hopes that what awaits her near the mine is worth it. At the very least, she thinks vindictively, it should have caught a rabbit.

It hasn't caught a rabbit.

Her jaw drops as she sees a figure of a man with his foot caught on a trap. A coal miner, judging by the layer of dark dust on his skin. He's lying face-down on the ground, unmoving. Unconscious. He's still breathing, she realizes. She overturns him gently, wondering who this man is and how he ended up here, when she has her first glance of his face and has to stifle a scream.

Father.

How did this happen? What was he _doing _here? A thousand questions roll around her head, but she ignores them for now. Her father's still alive, but it won't stay that way for long, especially not if she's just standing there gawking. Besides the wound on his leg which the snare caused, there seemed to be an injury near his shoulder blades and maybe his head. Mother, she thinks. I need my mother.

In vain, she tries to lift him up herself. She immediately collapses. Brushing herself off and cursing her own lack of strength, she resolves to get help as fast as she can. "Wait here," she says to her father. He makes no reply. And Katniss runs more desperately than she ever had in her life.

* * *

Peeta Mellark, the baker's son and one of the most popular kids in school, could not get his tongue to work. For the first time in his young life, _Katniss Everdeen _is talking to him. Katniss Everdeen, who he'd been in love with since he was five years old. Katniss Everdeen, whose father had recently died.

Katniss Everdeen, who is asking him to illegally go through the fence and help her blown-o-bits father get home.

He truly doesn't know what to make of this.

He tries stalling. "How did your father escape the mine explosion?"

She glares at him. "I don't know! I just saw him_ lying _there, unconscious. He was bleeding." Her voice shakes with fear. "He looked like he was about to die again, and I thought that getting help would be a _little _better than asking how he survived the first time."

He says hesitantly, "Isn't there someone else you should talk about this? Your mother, maybe?"

"I don't think she's in a good enough state of mind to help me."

"Why are you taking him to her then?"

"It'll be different when she sees him. I think." She narrows her eyes. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Katniss, I-"

"You're the fourth person I asked for help from. No one else will believe me," she says with a note of frustration. "If you're not going to help, tell me. You're just wasting my time."

Peeta frowns. He doesn't want her to think he's close-minded, but she's starting to worry him. "Katniss," he begins slowly, "You've obviously had a difficult day-"

She cries out in anger and turns away from him, steaming. She starts walking away from him. She _hates_ him, he realizes, for not helping her. And it stings like crazy. "Katniss, wait," he calls out, and she pauses. He thinks that he's going to regret this later, especially if his mother hears of it, but he c_an't _have her hate him, no matter what. Besides, he reasons with himself. When she finds out this was all in her head, a way for her to cope with her loss, maybe, she might do something desperate if someone isn't there. And this is probably the only time he'd ever have the guts to actually _talk _to her, anyway. "I'll help you."

Her face breaks in to a relieved smile. It only lasts for a little while – barely a few seconds – but it was all the conviction Peeta needed. He lets her grab his arm and show him the way under the fence. He almost hesitates again, almost thinks of his mother again, but Katniss is holding his hand and it's much too late to back out. She leads him through the forest like it was her second home, which it probably is. She's more relaxed here, he notices, but there's still a lot of tension, and he knows that they're reaching the end of their journey when she's clutching his wrist tight.

They stop. As he expects, there is no one there. He's about to say something, tell her he's sorry, when she abruptly pulls him through a green thicket and points to a dark, sooty shape. "There," she says, almost triumphantly.

He almost can't believe it when the shape begins to _move. _But it did, and he could clearly see that it has a silhouette of a man. Whether that really is Katniss's father he couldn't yet tell, but she's been right about at least this much so far. "So," she says, a little breathlessly. "Do you think you can help me carry him back? Like I said, I did ask other people, but they didn't believe me, and I didn't want to ask an adult form the town." Peeta could understand why; most merchants looked down on the people of the Seam, and even if she did ask for help she probably wouldn't have gotten any. Except maybe from his father. "Anyway, I know you lift a lot of flour around,a nd I know you're generally nice and you're in my class, so-" She gestured to her father. "Can you take him?"

He wasn't sure. Although he had been chucking around bags of flour since he first started working in the bakery, this would be completely different, and it'd be even more difficult because of the man's injuries.  
You have to dissemble the trap first," he says finally. She does as he asks, looking a little embarrassed that she didn't think to do it before. He didn't blame her. _He'd _be more than a little surprised if his supposedly dead father shows up alive and caught on a snare. He's impressed that she could hold on to _that _much composure this long.

They're both dismayed that removing the rap hasn't stopped the flow of blood. "We'll have to make do," Katniss decides. "And get him to my mother as quickly as possible."

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't think that will work, Katniss. The trip was long enough with just me and you. Carrying him might mean we have to double that time." He examines her father again. "Can't you staunch the blood for a little while or something? You _are _a healer's daughter." He immediately regrets his word choice when Katniss flushes with anger.

"I'm a hunter," she says in a clipped tone. "If I knew a way to stop this I'd have already done it." He holds his hands up in surrender. "Maybe if we could have bandages," she relents.  
That might help. But there's nothing here but leaves."

Peeta's face lights up, inspiration striking him. "Maybe not." He begins removing his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Glancing up, he sees that Katniss has taken a step backwards and is flushed again, this time with...bashfulness? He nearly laughs, despite the seriousness of it all. Katniss, the girl who was the first of her family to recover from the devastating blow of the morning and the one who ventures in the wood and breaks the law without a flinch, is _blushing_ because he removed his shirt?

With difficulty, he tries to hide a smirk while tearing his former piece of clothing. "Making bandages," he replies. He hands the strips to her. "You think these will cover it?"

"For a while," she answers, her face still slightly red. She wraps the makeshift bandages around her father without another word. He moans, but other than that, doesn't respond. Peeta takes his arm and slings it over his shoulder, supporting his weight. Katniss does the same, though it's more of the need for balance Her father's feet drag in the ground a little, but they can't help that.

Peeta was right when he said it would take them at least twice the time they used when making the trip for the first time, and by the time they manage to get in the fence Katniss's father is in a worryingly grey colour, but even she can't deny that they made a good team. He pauses outside the door, thinking that it might be rude to invade their privacy like that, but Katniss waves him right in. They unceremoniously dump her father in the kitchen table. Peeta stretches and rubs his shoulder.

"I have to get my mother," Katniss says after a while. She looks a little uncomfortable. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here." Katniss isn't sure how her mother will react, whether the sight of her husband will cause her to snap out of it or destroy her utterly. If it was the latter, then no matter how understanding Peeta is, she'd rather he not witness it.

"Oh." Peeta tries not to seem disappointed. What was he expecting, a kiss of gratitude? "Okay."

"You won't get blamed for your shirt, will you?"

"No," he lies easily. He will most definitely be blamed, and most likely punished, but she doesn't need to know that. "I'm good."

"Thanks for your help," she mutters as he walks out of the door. She isn't sure he hears her, but it doesn't matter. A simple 'thank you' won't cut it. And though she knows that she should be grateful, knows that is actions today might have saved her father's life, all Katniss Everdeen can think about as Peeta Mellark goes back to his bakery is the fact that she now owes him.

* * *

Lorelei Everdeen has not enough willpower to even stop her as Libby Forester peruses her home's storage.

Libby is a widower and has lived for so long no one could remember who her husband was—and when Lorelei once heard a child's suggestion that he might just be hiding to get away from his wife she did not dismiss this as an implausible solution. Although Mrs. Forester was one of the first few people to truly welcome her to the Seam, she quickly learned it was for her own reasons. The lady was a shameless moocher, and if Lorelei hadn't developed a thick skin and learnt to say no, her house would have probably been stripped clean by the second week.

But today, Lorelei couldn't face the woman, and this was probably for this very reason that she came. After she had peppered her with condolences, she quickly informed her that with her husband gone her family didn't need as much food, and even if they did Lorelei had the money the Peacekeepers gave her in compensation for her husband's death—which would not last them a month, Lorelei wanted to say, but she lacked the strength to do even that. She just yearns to lock herself away, to be stone-cold just as her husband is.

"Mother?" Katniss's voice rings around the room.

"Go away, child," Mrs. Forester hisses. "Your mother doesn't want to take care of you right now. Leave her in peace." _If only you would take your own advice, _Lorelei thinks dully.

"Mother, it's important," Katniss insists. Her daughter stands in front of her and holds her hand, and Lorelei painfully remembers all the times she, Katniss, Prim, and Ronan walked together as a family. But Katniss doesn't give her time to remember more. She yanks her mother up, despite Mrs. Forester's protests, and practically drags her to the kitchen.

Lorelei blinks. There, on the kitchen table, is her dead husband.

No. Not dead. He's breathing.

Alive.

Is she hallucinating?

The question is answered by a sharp gasp by her side. "Good heavens," Mrs. Forester exclaims, "That can't be-"

"It's Father, Mother," Katniss says steadily. "I found him. He needs your help." For a moment, Katniss is scared when she sees the expression of bewildered disbelief on her mother's face—but that fear is quickly relieved when the expression changes to one of grim determination. Mother wouldn't let Father die. She will not lose herself, or him, again.

Conscious of the long hours of work ahead of her, Lorelei orders Katniss to get some rags and water. She ignores Mrs. Forester's questions, hoping that if she doesn't acknowledge her she would go away. Katniss comes back bearing the supplies—and Prim, who had woken up during the commotion. She's glad of her younger daughter's help, especially when Katniss slips out quietly, and does boost her morale when she hears the six-year-old solemnly assuring her father's still form that 'Mother is going to make him all better.'

She hopes she can. Ronan's leg injury is easy enough to fix, but the possible concussion he suffered on his head and the deep bloodly gash near his shoulder blades were much tougher. She's horrified when she finds that the latter is infected—that it has blood poisoning. But she doesn't give up. She never will, when he's the one at stake.

Eventually, he regains consciousness. "Lorelei?"

She smiles at him weakly, but keeps on working. She orders him to keep talking to calm himself, maybe about how he got out – he's as squeamish as Katniss is sometimes about healing – but she stops long enough to give him a kiss and say, "You're going to be all right. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you to _**Norbert's Mom **_and _**Blarghh **_for reviewing. I really appreciate it.

**Norbert's Mom – **Thanks for pointing that out. I made an explanation for that in this chapter, sort of.

* * *

**3**

It's nearly midnight and Lorelei hasn't eaten for hours, but she can't afford to stop working. Little Prim had tuckered out at around ten, and Katniss had taken her back to bed. Thankfully, Mrs. Forester had gone, too, off to spread some gossip no doubt; but she didn't care. She didn't care if she's hungry or tired. All she needed was for Ronan to get better. She presses a hand on his forehead, and frowns when she finds it hot.

Although he's in a much better state than she had found him in – she dressed him in clean clothes and let Prim feed him soup at one point – his medical condition is becoming critical. The blood poisoning is spreading throughout his body now, red streaks covering his skin and his wound inflaming. She tries not to panic as all the herbs she uses prove ineffective against the disease and ignores that she had not once before, even when she had her parents' apothecary shop to work with, did she ever manage to cure a patient with this kind of illness. They all died within hours, a day or so if they were lucky.

As the hours drag on and it becomes clear that he's dying all over again, Lorelei fights the urge to scream that it isn't fair. It isn't fair that she gave her whole life to be with him, only to have him die now. It isn't fair that she should heal so many others and then be unable to save the one that she loves the most. She closes her eyes and calms herself, because if there's one thing she learned as the Seam's next best thing to a doctor, it's that being hysterical isn't going to help anyone.

She just sighs, wipes the sweat from her brow, and silently prays for a miracle.

* * *

It was the word 'canary' that penetrated through Haymitch's clouded brain.

_I have a canary at home, you know. It makes wonderful music._

Well, sweetheart, he's about to reply, If you think that's music you should hear Everdeen sing. Then he remembers this all happened years ago, that the girl he dreamed he was talking to died years ago, and that as of this morning, Everdeen was probably dead as well, and with him, any real reminder of his past life. But he's sure that the word 'canary' had been real. Someone had spoken it.

He lifts his head up from the table, wincing when even that bit of movement causes him pain. He gets up, wanting to know who spoke. That as well brings an ache to his joints. He wishes now he hadn't bothered in the first place; but since he's already standing, he might as well see what this canary business is all about. The chatting's coming from a nearby table, with a woman seemingly to plump to come from the Seam at the centre of attention. Mrs. Forester. Haymitch inwardly groans, already regretting not leaving things to be, but he goes and says, "Did you say something about a canary?"

Mrs. Forester glowers, loathing it when someone interrupts her, but she morphs her face in to a smile when she sees who it is. Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the fiftieth Humger Games and the richest man in the district, is looking at her for an answer. Well, if he really wanted it, he should pay for it—he's the only one who can afford to, anyway. "I seem to have forgotten," she says, her hand outstretched. The man glares at her but dumps some money on her palm. "Ah. Yes. Ronan Everdeen was raving about how a canary saved his life, back when I was in his house. I don't know exactly what he was talking about – he and his wife completely ignored my questions – but it was probably just fever talking."

Haymitch could hardly believe his ears. "Everdeen? Didn't he die in the mine today?"

"You're around four hours late behind in news," Ripper replies, carrying a glass of liquor. "Forester here came in a while ago, claiming that she just saw one of the Everdeen girls carry her father back home. Wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't snuck a peek."

"But _how _did he survive?"

"You better ask them yourself," Mrs. Forester sniffs. "Like I said, they wouldn't answer a single one of my questions. Not that it matters. He'll probably die again anyway. He has blood poisoning," she elaborates when she sees the man's confused expression. "And we all know that nothing but the fancy–schmancy equipment from the Capitol can cure _that._" She blinks. "Haymitch? Where are you going?"

"You idiot," Ripper says in a disgusted tone, but she can't help but smile a little. She knew what Abernathy and Everdeen were like, way back when. Never saw one without the other. "Might as well close up. He's definitely not coming back tonight."

* * *

Lorelei Everdeen almost shook with desperation. She couldn't have gotten her husband back only to have him die again. She had poured her heart and soul in to her work, putting everything she knew about healing to the test, and yet there she is hours later, her blonde hair damp and her eyes full of tears, clutching her husband's hand. He had drifted off to sleep again some time ago, and now she's scared that he'll never wake up. That she'd be alone.

She can't lose him again.

She can't!

* * *

Haymitch scowls as he looks around his home. He can't find anything at all. That new escort, the damned Trinket woman, had 'cleaned' everything up last time she was here, and now he's having trouble getting his house back to its normal, organized-messy state. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have cared. He'd wear her down, he knows it, and she'd give up tidying after him, just like her annoying smiley-faced predecessors did before her. But right now, he _needs _something. Something that his mentor had insisted every tribute needed to have, even if they were victors.

Especially if they were victors.

Having a burst of memory, Haymitch races to the kitchen and looks under the sink. There. His first-aid kit, bought so long ago but constantly replenished and restocked, just in case. Goods straight from the Capitol. There are snowy-soft bandages, Band-Aids that can cure minor wounds within minutes, pills that put you to a deep sleep—which don't really help, Haymitch thinks sourly, since it only means you can't get up from the nightmares. And syringes. Syringes filled with top-notch, state-of-the-art medicine. With a grim smile, he takes out the one he considers the most important.

An antidote for poison.

But he puts it away. He doesn't need it—not yet, at least.

Instead, he takes out another syringe that was said to be able to cure something else. Blood poisoning. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering why he's even bothering with all this. He isn't friends with Ronan anymore. They haven't even spoken for years, and the only times the guy ever saw him were probably either slumped over Ripper's bar or when he's onstage on Reaping Day, both times usually dead drunk. And hadn't he sworn to himself, on the day that _she _died, he'd cut off all ties to the Everdeen family?

But he knows why.

He remembers.

He remembers more clearly than ever, despite the long years and all the drink. When he was around eleven years old, he lost track of his baby brother. He had lived in the more dangerous part of the Seam, the part where you can get mugged or worse if you're out at night all alone. And it was getting dark. Even if he didn't care about leaving Jonas at night – which he _did, _but seriously, the kid loved running around so much it was tempting to just let him find his own way back – and he couldn't face his mother without him. Although he didn't care that much that his father walked out on them (good riddance), It was real rough on his mother, and he figured she had enough things to worry about besides that Jonas was missing. Again.

No matter where he looked, though, he couldn't find him. The Hob. The town square. The mines. He even sneaked inside the Victor's Village because Jonas was fond of looking at the houses. But he wasn't there.

In frustration, he kicked a nearby bucket.

"Hey," someone said behind him in an irritated tone. "I need that." Haymitch had turned around, scowling, and got his first good look at Ronan Everdeen. About the same age as him. Broad-shouldered even then, with the Seam look of dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes. Scowling right back at him.

"Sorry," he muttered, because a fight wasn't worth it and he really needed to find Jonas soon.

"What's your problem, anyway?"

"My little brother's missing."

"Oh." Everdeen stopped scowling. "Do you want me to help you look for him?"

He snorted. "Sure, if you can name a place you haven't already checked."

"The Hob? The mines?"

"Check and check."

"The public market? The town square?"

"Yep."

"I can't think of any more, then," he said, stumped. Then he looked at him sideways. "Unless you hunt in the woods."

Immediately, Haymitch was on his guard. "And what if I do?" he asked. Everdeen was going to regret it if he even _thought _of turning him in.

The guy looked slightly surprised. "Really? For how long?" Haymitch didn't answer. "You must have started recently," he said, "Or I would've noticed you before." Right. He had almost forgotten Ronan was a hunter, too.

"Last month," he muttered. That's when his father left. Although he didn't say the last part out loud, everyone in the Seam knew it, and judging by the sickly sympathetic look Everdeen was giving him, he did too. "I don't use real weapons like you—my mother's kitchen knife was the best I could get, and it goes through the game's body anyway. You're not really facing any competition when it comes to quality." He's not facing much competition at all, really. Haymitch had entered the forest to keep his family alive, but he still couldn't bring himself to go in very far.

Everdeen, however, didn't see it that way. "You any good with that knife?"

He shrugged. Six times out of ten he could snag a rabbit, but he'd never managed to catch a bird or a squirrel yet. "Sort of."

"Then don't worry about your weapon. As long as you can hunt with it, it doesn't matter what it is. As for the quality, well," Everdeen said wryly, "The people at the Hob aren't exactly picky eaters."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the pep-talk, but I still haven't found my little brother so…"

"I think I know where he is."

"You do?"

"Yep. Has he ever asked you to take him in to the woods?"

"Yeah, but I always told him no." Haymitch blinked. "He wouldn't."

As it turned out, he would. He just wanted to go around a _little _bit in the place where his big brother spent so much time in, but the fence turned on while was still on the other side and he got trapped. He was still trapped, actually. Haymitch yelled at him for half an hour on the other, swearing that if the fence hadn't been separating them he would've strangled him by now. "Perfect. Just perfect. What am I supposed to tell Ma?"

"You better wait for the electricity to let up," Ronan suggested. He had been watching, amused. "It'll be kind of dangerous to go back home alone, and morning is when the Peacekeepers begin to keep watch. Trust me, you do _not _want to be there when they do." Haytmitch didn't have to trust him. Everdeen already had scars from whippings to prove it.

"Fine," he sighed. "By the way, how did you know he'd be here?"

"Probably because _I _used to do it all the time," a voice answered. Haymitch turned around to see a younger girl with a mischievous expression coming towards them. She looked a lot like Ronan, since she had the Seam look too; but unlike him, she had that kind of aura that told him messing with this girl would be asking for trouble. She put her hands on her hips. "Well?" she asked Ronan. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Haymitch, this is my little sister, Diana," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Dad told me to look for you," she replied, her eyes still on Haymitch.

"Diana, this is Haymitch, the guy who's been stealing our customers these past few weeks."

She whistled. "You must be good, for people to prefer your meat to hours."

"Not really. But my prices are cheaper."

"Why don't you join us then?" She made the offer almost carelessly, but he knew from the tone that she was serious; and Ronan made no objection. He stared at both of them. He couldn't believe that they had suggested the idea. For a moment, he was tempted – he was always a bit of a loner, both because he mostly concentrated on taking care of his family, and because he never really found anyone who mattered enough to make an effort. To actually let his guard down for.

Still, he shook his head. "I'll only slow you down."

She scoffed. "Please. I've seen the butcher hire you to cut the meat on rush days. And you _can't _have a problem with self-esteem—I've heard you boasting enough, too."

He raised his eyebrows. "You've been stalking me, sweetheart?"

She hit him on the arm before continuing. "Besides, I'm just starting out myself. Ronan wouldn't let me start hunting with him until this year. I'd love to have someone who knows less about the woods than me who can screw up and make me look smarter in comparison."

"Sounds tempting," he said sarcastically. But he smiled. "If you put it that way…sure. Fine." He looked at them suspiciously. "There isn't some sort of embarrassing initiation rite on becoming a hunting partner, is there?"

"Nope," Ronan replied. "But don't I get a say in this?"

"No," Diana said.

"Figured." He didn't sound too remorseful.

"The fence doesn't look like it's going to get de-electrified soon," she observed. She turned to Haymitch. "We can stay out here, if you want."

"Work out the details of your partnership," Ronan agreed.

"You sure?" he asked. "It's getting late."

"Definitely, though I better go run and tell Father where we are first," she said. "I'll run for your mother, too."

Ronan smiled. "Welcome to the group."

"This is getting boring," Jonas muttered. But he had no one to blame but himself.

* * *

Lorelei has finally fallen asleep, still holding her husband's hand.

She doesn't know what is going to happen; what she's going to do; how she's going to let him go again. All she knows is that she really, really doesn't want him to die. She's in a dreamless doze, wanting to escape reality just a little while longer. She only wakes up when there's a loud rapping at the door.

She hesitates, wondering who could it be knocking at this hour, but she decides it probably just a sympathetic neighbour who wants to help. Still, she takes the frying pan just in case. She lives in the Sea, after all—one can never be too wary. She softly opens the door.

"Are you trying to brain me with that thing, sweetheart?"

Lorelei could do nothing but gape as the man she knows as the victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games steps in to her house. He walks in and looks at his surroundings with a half-smile on his face, as if recalling a distant, happy memory. He quickly sobers up, though, when he sees her expression. "Sorry. Just lost myself for a bit." There's an awkward silence. "I've heard Ronan Everdeen somehow made it out of the mine explosion."

"Y-yes. He did." _But he might die anyway, _she silently adds. And suddenly she wants this man who can have just about anything in the world to leave. "What do you want?"

"I know he has blood poisoning. I think I might be able to help."

She has to stare at him for a good long while before she can process this. "How?"

As an answer, he produces a syringe from his pocket and hands it to her. "It's from the Capitol."

Lorelei's fingers encloses the syringe, but she couldn't help but regard it with suspicious eyes, hardly daring to hope. Haymitch had shown up drunk for every reaping day. She'd watched years' and years ' worth of District 12 tributes dying because their mentor gave up on them before they even got to the arena. Besides that, Haynitch is a victor. A killer. Why is he trying to help her husband, anyway? She's not very familiar with Capitol drugs, so how can she know this isn't just going to let Ronan die a little faster?

"It's not going to kill him," Haymitch says, like he heard her thoughts. "Look, you might find this hard to believe, but a long time ago, Everdeen and I were friends." He winces, thinking about how sappy that sounds. "Things…have pretty much gone south for both of us, but that doesn't mean I want him to die. And he doesn't want to leave you guys." He clears his throat. "Point is, he's always been a survivor. Hell, I bet you could have thrown him in to the Hunger Games and he still would have come back alive, one way or another. He always does—and I'm not about to let a bit of blood poisoning to mess that up if I can help it." For a moment, he gives Lorelei a pleading look, and she sees past his wasted appearance.

For a moment, she sees the defiant and yet somehow vulnerable sixteen-year-old walking to the stage after his name is called out.

For a moment, she sees the boy who held her best friend's hand when she couldn't as Maysilee lay dying.

Without another word, she takes the syringe and plunges the medicine in to her husband's arm.

The next few hours are agony, waiting for Ronan's body to make a change. _Any _change. He's still breathing, which is encouraging to both of them, and his fever hasn't gotten any worse, but no better either. Lorelei does frequent check-ups on her daughters' room – where Katniss lay awake and no amount of her mother's singing or stories could get her to fall back to sleep but no amount of begging would get her mother allow her outside – and presses wet towels on her husband's head. Haymitch fidgets, noticing how different and yet so _familiar _everything is, while wishing he had brought some drink along so he can forget the memories.

Finally, Lorelei touches her husband's forehead and looks up, smiling tiredly. "His fever's gone down."

"Well, we both knew he's a survivor. This is the second time in two days he's proved it," says Haymitch. The lucky bastard.

"He'll probably be up soon. DO you want to talk to him?" she offers. He pauses, considering the idea. He and Everdeen hadn't had a real conversation in years. Lorelei smiles, thinking the answer would be yes, when she catches sight of his face. In one moment, it turned from thoughtful and slightly nervous to downright shockd. She's wondering what had caused this sudden change, and then realizes he's looking right behind her. She turns around and frowns.

"Katniss, I thought I told you to stay in your room until daylight," she says disapprovingly.

Her daughter shrugs. "The sun's out," she says, pointing to the window. Sure enough, it's breaking dawn. Lorelei sighs in defeat. "Is Father okay?" Even she, who'd always acted so strong, couldn't keep the small tremble from her voice. Lorelei's ashamed of herself. Her daughter shouldn't have to act in front of her.

"Come here," she says, her arms outstretched. Katniss hesitates, momentarily thinking she's a little too old for hugs, but she gives in and hugs her mother back. "Yes. Your father's all right, thanks to Haymitch."

"Haymitch?" The man who's staring at her?

"Yes." Lorelei remembers his astonished expression. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no," he manages to stammer out. "It's just that she looks like…well, of course she looks a lot like…never mind. It's stupid." He's walking out the door, mentally berating himself that he's getting so worked up about a little girl. Or, to be more specific, the appearance of a little girl. A little girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to somebody that he used to know. That's to be expected, right? They're related. Still…it's a little unnerving, to see _her_ face pop up after so many years thinking he'd never see it again, and now he's planning on going home and drinking until the image and everything that went with it is forgotten.

"Why was that weird guy in our house?" Katniss asks after he leaves.

"_Katniss_," Lorelei says disapprovingly. "Be nice. He's the reason your father's still alive." Her daughter's face turns in to a slightly sulky expression. "You too, of course. But he's the one who gave him the medicine for blood poisoning." She's smiling at her daughter, wanting her to be grateful, but Katniss remains unconvinced. To be honest, she can't really blame her. He _had _been acting odd when he left.

* * *

Later that day, Ronan Everdeen wakes up with sunlight streaming down his face and a very sweet six-year-old smiling at him. "Father's up!" Prim calls. Instantly, Katniss and Lorelei appear, bearing two heavy trays filled with food. Good. He's starving. It's only around the sixth or seventh mouthful did he ask where all of it came from.

"Neighbours," Katniss replies. _Guilty_ neighbours, some of them. Greasy Sae had been the first person she'd asked for help from, the first to call her crazy, and the first to show up on their doorstep with a pot of stew and a humbled expression on her face. More would follow. She tries not to glance at the raisin-and-nuts bread the baker had dropped off this morning. She's still wondering if he did it to be nice or if Peeta had told him about the whole affair.

"They said you don't have to go back to work yet. They even let us take a day off school!" Little Prim chirps happily. "So we can spend some time with you." In reality, they're probably wondering what to do with him. Out of all the mine explosions the district had suffered, there has never been a survivor.

"That's great," he says to his younger daughter. But it's the older one he smiles at. "Katniss. I'm proud of you." He squeezes her hand, and she smiles back. "Good thing we were prepared for what happened, right?" She nods, and he thinks of how much he owes that little canary bird. He had known that once, miners used to take canaries with them underground because they were very sensitive to harmful gases that could cause explosions. Thinking of this one day and wondering if that might happen to him, he had taken Katniss aside and told her what to do if she ever heard the sirens ring. If he hadn't, she might have not gone in to the forest until much later. So in a way, the canary had saved him twice.

He embraces his two children. "You were so brave, the both of you. And Lorelei-"

He's about to thank Lorelei for keeping him alive, but she holds up her hand.

"Don't thank me," she says. "I might have been able to fix your other injuries, but definitely not the blood poisoning." He gapes at her, shocked. He had no idea that his condition had been so serious—although he had felt awful, he thought Lorelei was acting too calm for anything _really _to be the matter. She never shows fear when she's healing, because if the patients think that it'll be all right then that's usually the outcome. Another thing he loves about her. "Not without Haymitch," she adds. "He gave me medicine from the Capitol to cure it."

Again, his mind reels with shock. Haymitch Abernathy had _helped _him? But _why_? They hadn't spoken in years. They'd parted ways right after the funeral. He'd even gone so far as to think that Haymitch is digusting with how he carried on with his liquor and money, not giving a cent to those who truly needed it. Why, after all these years, did Haymitch set aside his drink long enough to offer his assistance?

_Because we promised to look out for each other._

He shakes his head. That can't be it. That was years and years ago, and he doubts that Haymitch even remembers it. Although, before Lorelei's piece of information, he would've doubted if Haymitch remembers him at all.

_Well, whatever the reason he did it for, he's responsible for me being here._

Abernathy's responsible for him being able to lift Prim off the ground on to his lap. He's responsible for Ronan even being alive to kiss his wife again, to ruffle Katniss's hair.

He owes him.

That thought disturbs him a little – he hates owing people – but not as much as he would've expected. They _were _friends once, after all. There was a time they genuinely liked each other, and when Ronan pays him back, it won't be just for saving his life but for that as well. For their old friendship, even if it's gone now.

Anyway, he'd figure it out later.

Right now he just wants to be with his family.

**A/N: **My explanation for Haymitch not freaking out about Katniss's appearance in HG is because he was drunk when he first met her, and by the time he was sober enough to process what she looked like he's already used to it.


End file.
